


The Left Behind

by Fantismal



Series: Missing an Angel [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: And angels, Angels, Angels being brothers, Angels being dicks, Angst, Did I mention angels?, Gen, Heaven, Not-actually-an-OC, Pre-Series, angst angst angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fantismal/pseuds/Fantismal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel was not without his allies in Heaven. After the Archangel leaves to start a new life on Earth, those left behind must find their paths without their beloved leader. Sequel to A History of Heaven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Remains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amanthas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amanthas/gifts).



> These sequels would not have been completed in such a timely manner if not for my faithful reviewer Amanthas. Thank you so much, Amanthas, for all of your support and cheering on!

### The Remains

Cariel lifted his hand to brush fingers over his lips. He had stolen a kiss from his Archangel. Stolen a kiss and then had the memory stolen from him. _It’s better that you don’t remember,_ Gabriel had once told him, but now Gabriel had given back the memory. Gabriel’s memory, at least.

Gabriel had _liked_ it! He’d liked it! He’d liked it, and he’d never told Cariel, not once in the centuries since! So much time had been wasted! So much dancing around each other, Cariel never daring to presume too much, not about this, and Gabriel… Gabriel had known the entire time. Cariel had thought his Archangel had been stupidly obtuse about his feelings, or perhaps had been deliberately ignoring them to politely express disinterest, but no. No! Gabriel _had_ known, and he had wanted another kiss, and he had never _said_ anything!

Cariel whirled around, slamming his fist into the red glass walls of the tower of fire. It splintered beneath his knuckles, a spiderweb of cracks stretching out from the contact. The Seraph pulled his hand back slowly, staring in horror at the damage. Gabriel’s tower was not a building like those on Earth. It was tied directly to the Archangel, sustained by his grace and power. So long as Gabriel lived and claimed it as his own, it could withstand _anything_. One punch from a frustrated Seraph shouldn’t so much as scuff the wall, much less _crack_ it!

“So he’s gone then.”

Barachiel’s quiet voice wrapped around Cariel from behind, and Cariel closed his eyes, pulling his hand in close to his core. Barachiel slid forward, his fragile wings wrapping around his brother’s back as he encouraged Cariel to lean against his side. “The choir doesn’t understand.”

“ _I_ don’t understand,” Cariel muttered. It wasn’t entirely true. This had been the best outcome Cariel had seen for centuries now, Gabriel escaping Heaven with his life.

The other outcome involved Raphael killing Gabriel. Technically, that could still happen, but Gabriel was already on Earth. Cariel could barely feel his grace so distant. Earth was more Gabriel’s home than Heaven these days. If Gabriel had any chance of slipping Raphael’s pursuit, it would be there.

Still, while Cariel could understand why Gabriel had left, he couldn’t understand why Gabriel had left without him. _You loved me!_ He restrained himself from shouting over the choir connection to his Archangel. Gabriel was already shutting them out mentally. He could feel the block in his mind. _We were going to escape together…_

“I…” Barachiel took an unnecessary breath at his side, twisting his fingers together. “I may have committed treason a few minutes ago.”

“ _What_?” Cariel turned sharply to his younger brother, dark eyes searching the other Seraph’s face. Barachiel was not a traitor. He was sweet, and gentle, and loving, everything humans said angels were meant to be. “Barachiel, what did you do?” If Barachiel had done something wrong…

Well, if Barachiel had done something wrong, Cariel would protect him. Gabriel wasn’t around to speak for their choir anymore. Cariel was the lieutenant. He was now the senior-most angel of Gabriel’s choir, and therefore, he was in charge.

“No one said Gabriel wasn’t our Archangel anymore,” Barachiel answered, very deliberately widening his eyes and making his grace as innocent as possible. “He was in trouble.”

Cariel relaxed minutely, sensing where this was going. “What did you do?”

“I ordered a garrison to call the winds to defend him.” Barachiel lowered his gaze, submissive before Cariel’s scrutiny. “Not to _hurt_ his assailant, just… slow him down. And to help Gabriel fly faster. I never meant… I didn’t realize _Gabriel_ was the one being treasonous! I just thought: my choirmaster is in danger! I must help!”

“Oh, Barach…” Cariel clasped his brother’s shoulders, a new swell of admiration rising in his grace. “You are _very_ underestimated.”

“I know.” Barachiel’s pretend innocence was immediately wiped out by a mischievous little smirk—gentle and sweet he could be, but he _was_ one of Gabriel’s first-chosen angels, clever and tricky to his core. “Think they’ll believe it?”

“If you’re already looking innocent by the time they ask, they might just. Don’t put on the innocent face while they’re watching.” Cariel touched Barachiel’s face gently, shaking his head slightly. “You’ve been playing a long con, little brother. I’m impressed.”

“It isn’t a con if it’s true,” Barachiel protested. “The only thing I’ve been less than honest about is my intelligence. I encourage them to associate my gentleness with a lack of ulterior motives. That’s it.”

“And as a result, they love you too much to put you under Naomi’s knife.”

“I’m harmless. And broken.” Barachiel spread his thin wings to demonstrate. They were filling out now, capable of carrying Barachiel on short flights, but long journeys were still too taxing on the weakened limbs. “Gabriel saved my life. They cannot fault me my loyalty.”

Cariel managed to smile at his little brother, wrapping his healthier wings around him. “I am so glad Gabriel chose you for our choir.”

“I don’t think I would have fit well in any others.”

Michael himself interrupted the brothers’ embrace, filling Gabriel’s office with his presence. “Cariel!” he snapped. “Gather your choir here, in the tower. Guards will be posted around the perimeter. I want every last angel of Gabriel’s contained. No one leaves.”

“What will happen to us?” Cariel released Barachiel and put himself between the Archangel and his younger brother, automatically defensive. “What are you going to do to the choir?”

“We haven’t decided yet. _Contain_ them, Cariel, or Heaven’s wrath will fall on your head.” 

Michael was gone as suddenly as he arrived, and Cariel let his wings sag. He turned to Barachiel, who gave a little shake of his head. _Don’t fight it._ Cariel nodded reluctant agreement and reached out on the choir-wide channel to summon Gabriel’s angels home.

The angels gathered in the meeting chamber on the first floor of Gabriel’s tower. The floor wasn’t large enough for the entire choir, so it stretched twenty stories up, a massive room of red glass and flickering, ember-like light. Cariel positioned himself at the top of the chamber, just below Gabriel’s usual perch on a delicate outcropping on the wall. Ordinarily, when the entire choir met like this, Gabriel spread his wings across the ceiling so all could see him. Cariel didn’t even attempt to try. His six wings had always been dwarfed by Gabriel’s hundreds. Any attempt to replicate his choirmaster’s display of power would only demonstrate how much weaker he genuinely was.

The choir filled in the room much more quickly than Cariel had anticipated, taking their positions along the walls and floor. The rustling of wings was the only sound in the air—no one was talking. The combined grace of Gabriel’s choir was fearful and confused, a choking, heavy sensation.

When the last Cherub found his seat, Cariel rose, balanced on his perch. “Peace be with you, brothers,” he began.

“And also with you,” chorused back from the choir.

“I know you are confused,” Cariel said, trying to radiate as much calm and control as he could, hoping he could reassure his brothers by his own appearance. _See? I’m not panicked! You shouldn’t be, either!_ “A lot has happened, very quickly. Gabriel, our choirmaster, has,” there wasn’t really a good word to sum up everything Gabriel had just done, “abdicated his position.”

The gathered angels broke into a flurry of whispers and whimpers, their wings stirring against the walls and each other. Cariel let them talk for a moment before holding up his hands and thrumming his grace over the room, calling their attention back to him. “Please understand, Gabriel has _not_ turned his back on Heaven, and certainly not on us.” At least, Cariel hoped not. “He loves us, his choir, with his whole spirit. Everything he has done today, he has done for us, for our safety, for our sanity.”

“How is this for us?” Jegudiel, a fourth-class Seraph demanded. “He abandoned us!”

Cariel held up his hands again for silence, keeping his grace calm. “Surely none of us have been blind to the struggle between Gabriel and Raphael. The past six centuries have been tearing Heaven apart at its very foundations. Angel has turned on angel. Brothers have attacked each other _here_ , within the very walls of Heaven itself. This is meant to be peaceful. A sanctuary. But as long as Gabriel and Raphael were confined here together, we could never achieve that. Gabriel left so that we could be free of their feud. He has…” Cariel’s tight hold on his grace wavered for a moment, his own grief at losing Gabriel flickering through his wings before he could reign in back in. To his surprise, while his brothers saw, they responded with gentle waves of comfort flashing through their own graces, reflecting support back at him instead of panic that the second-in-command was in mourning. Bolstered by his brothers, Cariel continued. “He has sacrificed himself so that we might have a chance to heal Heaven.”

“Is he going to die?” Samandiriel, one of Cariel’s own Dominions, called up to him from somewhere near the floor. “Are they going to sentence him like they did Lucifer?”

Cariel closed his eyes for a moment. “Gabriel has broken one of Heaven’s most absolute laws. He has trespassed through the veil of the Borderlands and gone to Earth without permission or consent. He is now a traitor to Heaven, and if caught, will be judged as one.”

“And what does that mean for us?” One of Barachiel’s Angels, a tiny Earth-shaper named Hael, was hunkering close to her Seraph as she asked her question. Barachiel was rubbing her wings gently even as he looked up at Cariel.

“It means Gabriel is no longer our choirmaster.” Cariel closed his eyes for a moment, hating the words even as he spoke them. “It means if we see him, we must attempt to apprehend him to bring him before Michael and Raphael, or, failing that, we must attempt to kill him on sight. And as for our choir…” Cariel sighed and opened his eyes again, casting his gaze over each of his thousands of brothers. They all looked to him for direction now. “Michael and Raphael are deciding what to do with us. Whatever their decision, I ask that you accept it without complaint. It is most likely that we will be split between their choirs. Obey your new choirmaster as you would Gabriel himself. If you are demoted—which we all very likely will be—accept your new role graciously. Same if you are reassigned. After what Azazel and his traitors did, both Michael and Raphael will be reluctant to trust an angel from another’s choir. Do not give them reason to have you precautionarily executed.”

“What about you?” Samandiriel asked, stepping forward to look up at his Seraph. “What’s going to happen to _you_?”

Cariel managed a little smile for the Dominion, and he shrugged with all his wings so all his brothers could see. “I honestly do not know. But do not… Michael and Raphael know my loyalty to Gabriel is absolute. If they do not wish to risk my continued presence in Heaven, do not protest. Barachiel should survive.” He gestured down to his brother on the ground. “If anything happens to me, you can turn to him for guidance, but do not do so against the orders of your new choirmasters. Is that understood?”

Gabriel’s choir immediately rose up shouting, but Cariel flapped his wings loudly to startle them back into silence. “That is an _order_! You do not risk _anything_ for me! Do I make myself clear?”

None of his brothers wanted to accept Cariel’s command, but they didn’t have much choice when Bartholomew, Naomi’s top Dominion, appeared in their midst. “Cariel.”

“Bartholomew.” Cariel gave a small bow to the Dominion, far more respect than was warranted from a Seraph to a Dominion, but Cariel didn’t want to give the remaining Archangels any reason to suspect Gabriel’s choir would be more trouble than they were worth. “How may I help you?”

“You are ordered to report to Naomi for questioning.” The gathered angels started muttering their protests, but Cariel held up one hand to silence them.

“Now?”

“Immediately.” Bartholomew glanced at the gathered choir with only a touch of nervousness in his grace—he was outnumbered and alone—but Cariel simply smiled at him and nodded down to Barachiel, who returned the gesture. Barachiel would watch over the choir while Cariel was being questioned.

“Then lead the way.” Without any sign of resistance, Cariel gestured for Bartholomew to leave first. Bartholomew reached out and seized Cariel’s wrist before folding his grace through Heaven and dragging Cariel along with him. He rematerialized in Michael’s tower, in front of Naomi.

“Thank you, Bartholomew.” Naomi was waiting in her interrogation room, a very slightly softer version of Alastair’s torture chamber. The chair, at least, was padded, but the room was still blindingly white and sterile. Cariel eyed the restraints on the chair and tried not to let his unease show. “You may go.”

Bartholomew blinked out of existence, and Naomi turned to Cariel, her hands folded calmly in front of her. “Hello, Cariel. It has been a very long time since you last came by for a visit.”

“I saw no reason to visit someone who’d turn on me as completely as you had. You know that.” Cariel stepped over to Naomi’s table, examining her instruments of torture. They were so much like Alastair’s, though they weren’t quite as pointy all over. Cariel had always suspected Alastair had intentionally made his tools look scarier than they needed to be. “Please note,” he said quickly, turning back to his partner, “that this observation is made based on the history between the two of us and has nothing to do with Gabriel’s current actions, nor does it reflect on the current mentality of the choir.”

“Duly noted. I still don’t see why you hold that trial against me, though. I was simply adhering to our pre-arranged plan. It’s been thousands of years, Cariel. Haven’t you forgiven me yet?”

“No,” Cariel answered. “And I very likely never will. That _plan_ involved Michael and Gabriel’s participation in the trial. You’re damn lucky I was able to get us out of any sort of permanent punishment.”

“Cariel…”

“No.” Cariel turned his back on Naomi. “But I’m not here to discuss the past. I’m here to be tortured.”

They could call it questioning all they wanted, but Cariel knew Naomi’s garrisons were no kinder than Alastair’s when it came right down to it. Nothing Cariel said would be trusted in this room. Naomi would shove her way into his mind and rip the truth out from his thoughts and memories.

“I wish you wouldn’t call it that,” Naomi sighed. “We _aren’t_ torturers, Cariel. We are inquisitors.”

“Pretty it up however you want. We both know the truth.” Cariel squared his jaw and strode over to Naomi’s chair, taking a seat before he could lose his nerve. Last time he was in one of these, Alastair was trying to implant false memories into his mind so he could be accused of treason and executed. It took a lot of trust to voluntarily submit for such an ‘inquisition,’ trust Cariel didn’t have. He was attempting to make up for it with false courage. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“As you wish.” Naomi reached for one of the restraints, but Cariel pulled his arm away.

“Is that really necessary? I got in the chair without even being asked!” 

Naomi gave Cariel a flat look, grabbing his wrist and forcing it down to the armrest. “It is. For safety reasons.”

“Whose safety?” Cariel asked, not resisting as Naomi shackled his other arm.

“Yours.” The younger Seraph picked up a drill from her table and looked back at Cariel. There was something almost sad in her eyes. “This is going to hurt.”

By the time Naomi had finished, Cariel’s voice had given out from screaming and he was limp in the chair, his body aching where he had strained against the cuffs holding him down. If he hadn’t been restrained, he probably would have tried to claw his own head off. His entire spirit hurt, and his wings fluttered weakly against the back of the chair. Naomi was all business as she unbuckled the cuffs, but she didn’t offer to help Cariel to his feet.

Cariel didn’t attempt to get up. He was weak, drained all over, but there was a thread of triumph in his grace that he couldn’t quash. Naomi hadn’t found anything incriminating in Cariel’s memories, because he hadn’t had any. The only warning Gabriel had given Cariel was his odd behavior just minutes before he left, his unusual calm, and that memory he had restored. Cariel genuinely had been innocent in Gabriel’s escape, and he genuinely had no idea where his Archangel might have run to.

“Naomi…” The Seraph grunted his partner’s name as he tried to make himself sit upright. “Naomi, the choir…”

“What about them?” Naomi was cleaning her tools off, setting her workspace back to order.

“They’re innocent.” Cariel closed his eyes and shook his head, needing a moment to recover just from that movement. “I knew the most, and I didn’t even… they _will_ stay loyal to Heaven, if given a chance. Tell Michael… they deserve a chance. They’re good angels.”

“I have no control over Michael.” There was a trace of bitterness in Naomi’s voice, a recollection of the short time when she had held one of the most exalted positions of an Archangel’s second in command. “I can’t tell him anything.”

“You’ll report to him on this.” Cariel gestured weakly between them. “Put it in your report. Make a recommendation. They’re innocent. Punish me if you have to, but not them. They didn’t know anything.”

“It’s not my place-”

“Naomi, _please_!” Michael and Raphael wouldn’t listen to him. Cariel had to get Naomi to vouch for Gabriel’s choir if he wanted even a chance of sparing them all this. “There are thousands of them, of our little brothers. Our _innocent_ little brothers.”

“I can’t tell Michael _anything_ ,” Naomi repeated, glaring over her shoulder at Cariel. The older Seraph sagged back into the chair, and Naomi sighed, setting down her drill, “but I’ll include a recommendation,” she conceded. “There were no red flags in your mind.”

“Thank you,” Cariel breathed.

Naomi made a frustrated noise and snapped her fingers. Moments later, Bartholomew appeared beside her. “Return Cariel to Gabriel’s tower. Put him in his office.”

“Yes ma’am.” Bartholomew bowed to Naomi before seizing Cariel’s arm and folding through Heaven.

Cariel was grateful to be in familiar territory again, and even more grateful when Bartholomew left him alone. Barachiel burst in a few minutes later, quick to close the door behind him. “I felt your return! Are you all right?” He rushed to Cariel’s side, touching his grace to the older Seraph’s and feeding him strength.

Cariel wrapped an arm around Barachiel’s shoulders and dragged him down to join him in the big chair. Bartholomew was unwelcome, but Barachiel’s soft grace was a balm against his strained spirit. “Drained,” he answered, “but alive. For now. She didn’t find anything incriminating. Gabriel did that right, at least.”

“What’s going to happen now?” Barachiel asked.

“I don’t know,” Cariel answered honestly, turning against his brother’s side. “I don’t have any clues.”

“You were very confident when addressing the choir.”

Cariel laughed harshly. “That was a huge line of bullshit, Barachiel. I was making it up as I went along.”

“I thought you might have been,” Barachiel admitted, “but I hoped you weren’t.”

“No.” Cariel closed his eyes and shuddered. “I have no idea what happens next.”


	2. The Demotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Raphael have finally decided what to do with Gabriel’s angels. Cariel is the first to be told.

### The Demotion

Cariel stood in Michael’s office, his hands clasped behind his back, wings folded in tight. He kept his head up and his eyes focused intently on the wall directly in front of him, regardless of the pacing of the Archangel around him, or the second seated behind his desk.

 _Two_. Two of them, the only two Archangels left in Heaven. Michael and Raphael were clearly upset, their graces spiking erratically around them. They were talking silently to each other, over Cariel’s head, if the interplay of their halos was anything to go by.

Cariel had lived his entire life in the presence of an Archangel, but he was wholly unprepared for the scrutiny he now endured. Michael and Raphael were nothing like Gabriel. There was nothing soft about either of them, nothing warm, nothing that sparked with laughter or teased or smiled. Gabriel had loved his older brothers, but Cariel had always feared them. Michael and Raphael were power and command, and their will was absolute.

“We should kill you where you stand,” Raphael finally snarled, addressing Cariel for the first time since he had been summoned into Michael’s office. “You’ve always been Gabriel’s little pet. You’ll be nothing but trouble, just like him.”

“You are allowing emotions to cloud your judgment, Raphael,” Michael warned. His eyes didn’t quite track the angel he was speaking to. “Gabriel has betrayed us recently, yes, but he has not been solely trouble.”

“In these past few centuries?” Raphael’s wings beat the air in agitation. “Gabriel has been an absolute _menace_!”

“Just because he escaped your control doesn’t make him a menace!” Cariel protested, unable to keep silent anymore. Fugitive or not, Gabriel would always be his choirmaster. He couldn’t stand idly by while Raphael insulted him.

“This is not the time for you to act out, Cariel,” Michael warned, imperious and foreboding from behind his desk. “Your life hangs by a thread. The last time we trusted another’s second, he betrayed all of Heaven.”

“Twice,” Cariel muttered. “And Gabriel warned you about him! If you only _listened_ to him, maybe you wouldn’t have driven him away!”

“So this is _our_ fault now?” Raphael stepped between Michael and Cariel, looming over the Seraph to his full height. Ancient instincts, long since battered into submission under Gabriel’s casual rule, reared up within Cariel and he shrank beneath Raphael’s presence, folding into a bow. “You _dare_ to accuse us of-”

“Raphael, that is enough.” Michael stood behind his desk, his fingertips barely brushing the surface. “Cariel apologizes for his insolence.”

“You don’t get to speak for me.” Cariel rankled at his treatment, clenching his hands into fists even as he remained bowed before Raphael’s might. Gabriel had _never_ treated Cariel like this. He had always conferred with his lieutenant as an equal, valuing his word and opinions. Michael and Raphael were barely acknowledging he was a living being, much less one with thoughts of his own!

“Is this how you acted in front of Gabriel?” Raphael sneered. “Did you amuse him with your rebellious words?” His hand closed around Cariel’s neck, reminding the Seraph of the magnitude of difference between Raphael’s power and Cariel’s. The unconventional physics of Heaven made them appear similar in size, usually, but when a more powerful angel chose to be threatening, his true vastness was revealed. “Don’t mistake me for my brother, _Seraph_. I don’t particularly like you, and I have no vested interest in keeping you alive.”

“I do.” Michael flicked a hand at the pair, easily separating Raphael from Cariel with a small wave of grace. “Gabriel is confused right now, but I do not believe him lost. However, if we were to kill his lieutenant in a fit of anger, we _would_ lose him.”

Raphael seethed on his side of the room, his massive wings slicing through the air again, but he kept his distance from Cariel. Cariel slowly straightened up, massaging his neck ruefully.

“Mind you, Cariel,” Michael said, addressing the Seraph without even attempting to look at him, “should we execute you for suspicion of potential treason, I’m sure we could convince Gabriel that it was warranted, in light of Azazel’s actions. He would understand that we could not keep an angel within these walls whose loyalty was not first and foremost to Heaven and the Host.” 

“Is that a threat?” Cariel asked, glaring darkly at Michael.

“Gabriel would be sad if we killed you,” Michael said, finally turning his head to vaguely meet Cariel’s eyes. “But he is extraordinarily resilient, even for an angel. He would recover. You would not.”

That _was_ a threat. Michael’s gaze was completely calm and sober, but he wasn’t, Cariel realized, entirely sane. The shattered core Gabriel had always fretted about, ever since Michael had assisted in Lucifer’s banishment, still shifted and fragmented further at the very heart of the greatest angel. Cariel had never realized how complete the damage was. His distant, wandering gaze wasn’t because he was bored of the meeting. Michael was holding himself together by the sheer strength of his will alone.

Raphael knew this. Cariel glanced over at the other Archangel. Raphael was once again pacing in agitation, but now that Cariel was paying attention, he could see that the looks Raphael kept shooting Michael’s way weren’t for guidance—they were concerned. Who else knew? The Archangels had been aware, but Michael’s second… Michael didn’t _have_ a second. Ever since Gabriel had settled in on Earth with Jesus, Raphael had been the one stepping up as Michael’s second, despite it being beneath him as an Archangel. Gabriel had known, and he had confided in Cariel, but he had asked Cariel to keep it to himself. From what Cariel knew of Raphael and Marmoniel, he couldn’t see the Archangel of the Air confiding in her.

No one else had gotten close enough to Michael long enough to notice. Cariel looked back at his oldest brother. If he drew this out too long, Michael might not be able to keep up the pretense that he was fine. Gabriel could lie flawlessly, but he had a tendency to collapse if forced to carry one on for an extended period. Michael’s wandering gaze was clue enough that his strength was fading.

Raphael wasn’t angry with Cariel and the choir, or even with Gabriel. Raphael was _worried_ , worried that Cariel would figure out the truth, worried that… that with Gabriel gone and Michael breaking into pieces, Raphael was effectively the last Archangel remaining.

Raphael wasn’t designed to be a leader, same as Gabriel wasn’t. Neither of the secondary Archangels were ever meant to step up and guide all of Heaven. That was Michael’s job, with Sammael at his side. For the first time, Cariel looked to Raphael with something approaching pity in his grace. “Don’t speak for me,” he said quietly. “I am my own angel, with my own thoughts and mind. Do not ever presume to speak for me, and I will obey you. Not as if you were Gabriel—you both know you could never replace him to me—but I will not jeopardize the Host with my actions.”

“Or we could just kill you,” Raphael pointed out.

“Kill me and you face a mutiny from Gabriel’s choir,” Cariel countered, turning to face the younger Archangel fully. “Keep me alive, and I can keep them calm and help them through the transition. I presume you will be splitting them between your choirs? They won’t like it, but I can make them accept it.”

Raphael narrowed his eyes at Cariel, and Cariel spread his arms. “Gabriel liked me because I was capable of leading his choir without his constant attention,” he said. “I’m an asset you can’t afford to lose right now, Raphael. You know I’m right.”

No one had ever dared speak to Raphael like this before in the Archangel’s life, if how the wind picked up around Raphael was any indication. Cariel held his ground, staring the more powerful angel down. Raphael wouldn’t strike him here without Michael’s permission, and Michael was at least still sane enough to be on Cariel’s side.

Cariel hoped.

“You will have to be demoted,” Raphael finally relented. “Fifth-class Seraph, with no hope of promotion.”

That was actually better than Cariel had dared to pray for. He could tolerate being fifth-class, so long as he could remain a Seraph. Demotion any further down would strip him of some of his wings, and he couldn’t imagine life with only one set. Most angels never knew anything better, but Cariel was not one of them. He would honestly rather be dead than demoted so far. “I understand,” he said. “Whose choir will I be assigned to?”

Raphael glanced over at Michael, and Michael answered for both of them.

“Ours.”

“I _don’t_ understand…” An angel could only serve one choirmaster. That had been demonstrated all too clearly with Azazel.

“We are combining our choirs,” Raphael explained, striding over to the desk and putting his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “Michael will be the choirmaster of all of Heaven, and I shall be his second.”

“So… exactly how it was when Gabriel was on Earth with the prophets, only official?”

“Yes,” Michael gave a little nod and a pleasant, distracted smile. “I’m glad you chose to cooperate with us, Cariel. You have been an asset to Gabriel all these millennia. We look forward to your continued service to the Host.”

There really was something off about Michael now, in all his words and actions. Was it really so wise to have him ruling all of Heaven? Cariel’s eyes flicked to Raphael, and Raphael lifted his chin slightly. Michael wouldn’t be. He was a figurehead only. The true rule would come from Raphael, for as long as Raphael could sustain the deception.

Cariel swept out his wings and ducked into a bow to the pair of Archangels, hiding his concerns between false fealty. “I look forward to working with you both. May I return to my… to the remainder of Gabriel’s choir now?”

Michael took his seat again, flicking his fingers in Cariel’s direction, already distracted by a report on his desk. “You may go.”

Cariel nodded briefly and left the tower as quickly as he dared. He still wasn’t fast enough. Halfway back to Gabriel’s tower, a sudden gale swept him off his path and tumbled him into one of Heaven’s forests. Swearing and cursing, Cariel attempted to untangle his wings from the snarled branches. The task was made all the more difficult by the hostile presence of an Archangel perched on a nearby branch, watching. 

“Is this the sort of show that amuses _you_?” Cariel spat at Raphael, buffeted by another gust of wind.

“More than rebellious words, yes,” Raphael answered, and Cariel would have laughed if he hadn’t been the subject of the Archangel’s amusement. So there _was_ a sense of humor somewhere in Gabriel’s twin. “You saw.”

Cariel stopped struggling, looking over at Raphael. _This_ was more of what he was accustomed to from Gabriel, this look as if the Archangel was genuinely seeing him. “Michael’s… damage? Yes.”

“You will not speak of it to anyone.” Raphael narrowed his eyes at the Seraph. “Michael may speak up for you when you’re in front of him, but I can assure you, he’s already forgotten. If I told him you died in the course of your duties, he wouldn’t question me.”

“You know the big difference between you and Gabriel?” Cariel asked, struggling against the tree again. He managed to get one of his wings free. “One of the differences, at least? He never threatened me. He _asked_. And I’d obey, because I loved him.”

“You don’t love me,” Raphael retorted. “I don’t have your loyalty. Why bother asking when I’ll have to threaten anyway?”

“Because I still might say yes.” Cariel pulled a second wing free and used them to help push himself away from the branches. “For your information, Raphael, I’ve known Michael was broken for centuries. This is just the first time I got close enough to see for myself.” He looked over his shoulder at the Archangel. “Gabriel told me. Even before Jesus. I haven’t told anyone else, and I will continue to keep it a secret.”

“See that you do.” Raphael flashed away with one last firm wind to shove Cariel back into the trees. He flailed among the leaves, cursing the Archangel’s name under his breath.


	3. The Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balthazar and Castiel are missing. Cariel helps Anael look for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year all!

### The Lost

Cariel didn’t think he’d ever get used to being at the bottom of the Seraphim pecking order. As Gabriel’s lieutenant, all he had to do was snap his fingers or think a name to summon an angel to fetch him information or answer his questions. No one was beneath him: even Gabriel answered when he called (under the understanding that he wouldn’t call often).

Fifth-class Seraphim did not warrant that same respect. The Dominions still bobbed little bows as he passed, and the Angels and Cherubim still gave actual full bows, but the other Seraphim largely ignored him, busy with their own tasks. Even Gabriel’s former Seraphim, folded into the massive joint choir of Michael and Raphael, rushed past him, determined not to disappoint their new choirmasters and bring an execution down on their heads. Only Barachiel still deferred to him, even though Barachiel was technically several dozen steps above him in rank.

The absolute worst of the lot was Zachariah. Once, Zachariah had been Gabriel’s third-in-command, directly beneath Cariel himself. When Lucifer had started truly threatening Heaven, Zachariah had been traded to Raphael and demoted, but he had quickly proven his worth to his new Archangel and risen back up through the ranks. If Cariel was assessing the ranks properly in this hodge-podge choir, Zachariah was a first-class Seraph, second only to Marmoniel, the last lieutenant of the Archangels. That put him as the fourth most powerful angel in the entire Host, a position once only held by Archangels.

Zachariah could not have been more smug if he tried. He took every opportunity to harass Cariel and remind him of just how far he had sunk. He frequently “delegated” menial tasks to Cariel and ordered the creation of useless reports, like the one Cariel was compiling now: The Types of Wheat on Earth and Number of Grains of Each. Who cared!? Gabriel’s choir had overseen Earth for billions of years without ever counting every last grain of wheat or granule of salt, but Zachariah kept insisting a full inventory was the hallmark of a successful venture. Cariel had felt ridiculous assigning angels to peer through the veil to count the miniscule grains, but he could no longer refuse an order. He had no political sway left, and he could not afford another demotion.

And speaking of Zachariah, one of his Dominions was underfoot as Cariel stalked back toward his new office, deep in the bowels of Michael’s tower, after dropping off the report (and just barely escaping before Zachariah could suggest that the “Grains of Sand” report was out of date). She almost ran into the Seraph, hopping aside just in time and beating her wings in distress. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

“It’s all right, Anael.” Cariel reached out to steady the smaller angel. Anael might have been one of Zachariah’s Dominions, but Gabriel had always held a soft spot in his heart for her and her garrison. He gave her his favorite angels to watch over and checked in as frequently as he could. When Gabriel had reluctantly traded Zachariah, it was really Anael’s garrison that he had been most loathe to part with. Whichever angels Gabriel liked, Cariel liked. His Archangel had always had extraordinarily good taste. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Oh, I’m not, I’m just, I’m looking, I’m not really…” Anael fumbled with her words and pressed a hand over her mouth, shaking her head.

Cariel frowned, squeezing her shoulder gently. “Anael, something’s obviously wrong. You can tell me. You can trust me.”

Anael groaned in distress, glancing up and down the otherwise empty hall before leaning in closer. “You wouldn’t have happened to have seen Castiel, would you? Or Balthazar, for that matter?”

“Castiel and Balthazar?” From the moment Cariel had first met those two, at their fledging, Castiel and Balthazar had been Heaven’s most troublesome duo. Castiel was always underfoot and floundering through his duties (though he genuinely had improved, no one would let him forget his younger years), while Balthazar caused scenes wherever he went. They had practically been handmade to serve under Gabriel’s lenient wings. Cariel couldn’t even begin to imagine how they must have suffered under Raphael’s rule. “I can’t say I’ve seen either of them. How long have they been missing?”

Anael’s wings sagged. “Several hours now. I’ve looked _everywhere_ except the one place I think they are, but if Zachariah finds out they’re gone, he’s going to have my wings for sure this time! It’s the fifth time this year that I’ve lost them!”

“Why didn’t you look where you think they are?” Cariel asked with a little frown. “That would seem to make the most sense to me…”

“Because I really don’t want them to be there,” Anael answered with a sigh. “And besides, it’s,” she whispered as she pointed up, into the higher reaches of Michael’s tower, “with Naomi.”

“Ah.” Naomi had been acquiring quite a reputation for herself in this new Heaven. Without Alastair, Naomi was the sole “inquisitor” among the Seraphim. She and her angels were now widely regarded as the bogeymen torturers of Heaven, keeping the lesser angels in line. Naomi was still only a second-class Seraph, but many feared her more than they did Zachariah, or even the Archangels themselves. At least if Michael was mad at you, you received nothing worse than a quick death. Naomi kept angels alive.

That wasn’t a blessing.

No one visited Naomi and her angels without being ordered to. If Anael lurked around their floors, her presence would be noticed immediately and reported to her superior, Zachariah.

“The last six times they went missing, it was because Naomi was re-educating Castiel,” Anael explained. “They never tell me in advance! I just realize two of my angels are gone, and I find Balthazar waiting impatiently for one of Naomi’s angels to finish torturing Castiel!”

“Just Castiel?” Cariel asked, canting his head to the side.

“Rumor has it that she tried to re-educate Balthazar, but her tools broke on his thick head,” Anael sighed. “So she resets Castiel instead.”

“That’s hardly fair.” If Balthazar was the angel deserving re-education (and honestly, as much as Gabriel had liked the light-fingered angel, Balthazar was one of a small handful Cariel thought could use some re-education), Castiel didn’t deserve to be punished in his stead, even if they were partners.

“I know!” Anael flung her wings and arms out. “And I tried protesting, and lodging a formal complaint, but I was told to attend to my own duties and let Naomi be concerned with the well-being of the Host. But Castiel is one of _my_ Angels! His well-being _is_ my duty! At the very least, I deserve to be notified that there is an issue with one of my garrison!”

“I fully agree.”

“I hate this.” Anael pulled her limbs back in tight and squeezed her eyes shut. “I hate this… this _fear_! It infects everything! All of Heaven! We don’t even dare to _breathe_ without being told we’re doing something wrong!”

“Anael…” Cariel glanced down the hall himself, stepping closer to his little sister. She was getting worked up, and her voice was rising higher with her agitation.

“It’s not fair! We deserve better than this! We deserve to know what’s going on with those we’re responsible for, what our parts are in the world now. My angels are supposed to be guarding the Earth, but we’re not even allowed to set foot on it anymore! We have to watch over it from far away, and don’t even get me started on trying to smite evil through the veil. It doesn’t work. And what’s it all for, anyway? God? I haven’t seen or felt any sign of our Father in _centuries_! Not once! We are forsaken, Cariel, utterly abandoned by our Father and half the Archangels!”

“Anael, shush!” Cariel sliced his hands through the air in a cutting-off motion, glancing over his shoulder. “You can’t say things like that here. You don’t know who might be listening!” If any angel loyal to Naomi or Zachariah had overheard Anael’s outburst… Hell, if any angel loyal to _Raphael_ had, Anael might be facing more than a re-education. Naomi’s garrison had a special curriculum they called “Persuasion” for any angel who grew too blasphemous. Cariel wasn’t entirely sure the angel’s survival was a requirement for Persuasion’s success.

“But you understand what I’m saying, right, Cariel?” Anael turned pleading eyes up toward the Seraph, clasping her hands together. “You feel the same way, right?”

Cariel _did_. God help him, but he did. Gabriel had once pointed out just how very little God actually did in Heaven, and ever since then, Cariel had noticed the hands of angels at work far more than he ever noticed the hand of his Father. Sometimes, he wondered how much more of the story Gabriel had known, as an Archangel, as the Messenger, as one who spent so much time in the direct presence of God. God _had_ existed, at one point. Cariel knew this. Gabriel had met him.

Whether or not God _still_ existed was a matter of some debate.

It wasn’t for open debate, though, not even with Anael. The truth of the matter was that Anael was right—fear infected every last crevice of Heaven. No one knew which angels could be trusted, and which reported to a higher power: Naomi, Zachariah, or even one of the Archangels. Cariel trusted Barachiel and no one else. It wasn’t outside the realm of reason to think that Anael had been sent intentionally to lure Cariel into confessing rebellious or treasonous thoughts. She was still one of Zachariah’s Dominions, for all that Gabriel had loved her. Even if Anael wasn’t going to report back to Zachariah, it was entirely possible that Raphael had the invisible spies of his Cherubim slipping through the halls of Heaven’s remaining towers, their grace so slight they could hide themselves completely from a brother’s eyes.

“I wish I could comfort you, sister,” Cariel answered, choosing his words carefully. “I wish I could say the words that would assuage your fears.” There. It was not a declaration of rebellion, nor was it discrediting Anael’s fears. It walked the line between agreeing with her and denying that anything was wrong, and Cariel hoped the Dominion understood why he couldn’t just say yes, he agreed whole-heartedly with her impassioned yet ill-advised declaration. ”Why don’t you come with me,” he suggested. “Naomi is my partner. I can ask her if she has Castiel.”

“Thank you, Cariel.” Anael had deflated when Cariel hadn’t agreed with her outright, but she didn’t pull away from him. She allowed him to lead her up through Michael’s tower, toward the floors controlled by Naomi.

The pair was greeted at the entrance by Naomi’s favorite Dominion, Bartholomew, who looked down his nose at them. “What brings you up here, Cariel… oh. It’s _you_.”

Anael shuffled her wings, half-hidden behind Cariel’s greater presence. “Hello, Bartholomew.”

“Is Castiel here?” Cariel asked, pretending he didn’t notice the animosity in the air.

Bartholomew made a big show of looking at the clipboard he held, flipping through several pages. “Yes,” he finally informed them. “He is currently in process.”

“I would like to see his file.” Cariel held out a hand expectantly.

Bartholomew eyed it, then turned his sour gaze toward the Seraph. “What makes you think you can just demand something like that?”

Cariel smiled and leaned in toward the Dominion. “Did Naomi forbid me from requesting files?” he asked, his voice as sickeningly sweet as he could make it.

“No…” Bartholomew narrowed his eyes, the suspicion evident in his grace.

“Then as a Seraph, and therefore outranking you, I order you to release Castiel’s file to me before I can lodge a complaint that you are obstructing a Seraph in his Seraphial duties.” Cariel beckoned with his still outstretched hand. “Hand it over, Bartholomew.”

“Who would you complain to, Naomi?”

“I’d go above her head.” Cariel’s smile was downright poisonous now. “Marmoniel and I have quite a bit of history. Don’t think I don’t still have her ear.”

Bartholomew glowered at Cariel for a moment, but Cariel just _casually_ stretched his six wings. Seraph, even the lowest of the fifth-class Seraphim, always trumped Dominion.

Five minutes later, Bartholomew was shoving Cariel and Anael toward the reception area to wait, grumbling about a breach in protocol. Cariel didn’t care. He was holding Castiel’s ridiculously thick file.

In the reception area, the existence of which was in and of itself a surprise, they found one of Anael’s missing angels. Balthazar was sitting backwards on an uncomfortable-looking plastic chair, his chin resting on his arms folded across the back. His eyes flicked their way as Cariel and Anael entered, and his wings stirred faintly in recognition, but he didn’t bother to get up. His grace was thin and tired, and his exhaustion was reflected in his face and the unkempt state of his wings. “Has it been that long already?” he asked Anael.

“Three hours now,” Anael answered. “I’m half expecting Zachariah to call muster at any minute. If he does, we’d fail. You realize that, right, Balthazar? You’re jeopardizing your entire garrison with this truancy!”

“Castiel wouldn’t be there,” Balthazar answered. “We’d fail without him regardless of whether or not I’m there. I’m not jeopardizing anything that isn’t already broken.”

“If Zachariah is aware that Castiel is here, he wouldn’t ding us for his absence. _Yours_ is unapproved!”

Balthazar just pressed his chin further against his arms and was resolutely silent. Anael sighed and dropped into another uncomfortable-looking chair. “What am I going to do with you, Balthazar?”

Cariel allowed the two their conversation, finding a third chair for himself. Castiel’s file was written in Naomi’s shorthand, but she had taught Cariel the gist of reading it many millennia ago, when they were still friends. “None of this makes any sense,” Cariel muttered, paging through the file and reading excerpts here and there. “Castiel genuinely hasn’t done anything _wrong_.”

“Duh,” Balthazar mumbled. “I could have told you that. Castiel’s been an absolute angel.”

“Then why are they constantly resetting him?” Anael asked.

“Damned if I know.” Balthazar drew his wings up high, blanketing the back of his head with them. “I’ve been _trying_ to lure them away from him, but Naomi’s fixated on fixing him. There’s nothing broken!” The last sentence was shouted toward the rest of Naomi’s floor, but then Balthazar was back to his brooding. “Nothing _they_ haven’t been the ones to break, anyway.”

“They’re breaking him?” Cariel asked. The file gave him no answers. It detailed the procedures Naomi used on Castiel, but aside from an attempt to ‘fix the errors,’ which they never specify, it gave him no reason behind the actions.

Balthazar sighed, rolling his head back and forth along his arms. “I don’t think they’re doing it intentionally, but every time they let him go, he’s a little less… _Castiel_. I’m losing him. I keep trying to remind him of what he used to be like, back before we were Raphael’s grunts,”

“Balthazar,” Anael scolded, rather hypocritically, Cariel thought, for an angel who had just been shouting about her own unhappiness.

“We are! He says kill, and we’re all slaughtering the Borderlands before us. There’s nothing elegant about what we do. See an enemy, kill it, repeat. Or we could just sit and watch the Earth. We’re grunts, Anael. Nothing more. Even Uriel hates it. You know it’s bad if _Uriel_ complains.”

Anael frowned, tilting her head to the side. “Uriel complains about everything.”

“Because everything sucks.”

“You realize Naomi is…?” Cariel gestured toward the rest of the floor, but Balthazar just gave a shrug.

“Let them re-educate me. Better me than Castiel. He’s had enough.”

“You know full well that re-education doesn’t work on you.” Naomi interrupted the trio’s conversation, with Bartholomew directly behind her, looking smug, and Castiel in front of her, looking perfectly blank.

Cariel rose to his feet slowly, staring in shock at the younger angel. He remembered spending millions of years trying to rescue this Angel from Raphael, starting back when Castiel had been nothing more than a klutzy fledgling with huge blue eyes and one of Gabriel’s feathers. Even as a child, Castiel’s grace had glittered and danced with emotions and questions, an infectious combination that had spoken to Gabriel and the essence of his choir.

Now Castiel stared straight ahead of himself, his grace reflecting nothing but the pure white of an Angel’s power. It was wiped completely clean, with no trace of any personality or soul. Castiel, one of the most _alive_ angels Cariel had ever met, was as still and silent as a grave.

What was even worse was the complete lack of surprise in Balthazar’s grace. The lighter angel’s grace reflected only his resignation and fatigue as he stood and approached his partner. “Castiel?”

The blue eyes shifted to the side to focus on Balthazar, and a pleasantly puzzled emotion flitted over the blank canvas of Castiel’s grace, but it soon dissipated

Balthazar sighed and held out his hands. “I’m your partner, Balthazar,” he explained. “I’ll take you home now.”

“Go,” Cariel advised Anael, looking back at Naomi, who was watching him. “I wish to speak with my own partner.”

Anael nodded and ducked into a bow to the Seraphim before seizing both Castiel and Balthazar by the shoulders and folding out of the room.

Naomi turned her attention fully on Cariel and held out her hand for the file. “Bartholomew informed me you stole one of my files?”

“Stole?” Cariel shook his head, though he did hand it over. There was nothing in the file he could use to help Castiel. “Bartholomew _gave_ it to me.”

“As he did explain.” Naomi paged through the file quickly, checking that everything was present, before handing it back to Bartholomew. “From this moment forward, note that all of my files are confidential and can only be accessed with my permission. I’m sorry I had assumed you would have respected my work without needing to be forcefully restrained, but rest assured I can adapt as needed.”

“Glad to hear that.” Cariel gestured towards the east, where Anael would have taken Balthazar and Castiel. “What was that all about?”

“I was performing my duties. Why are you here?”

“I was assisting a sister in distress.” Cariel folded his arms across his chest. “Naomi, what in God’s name are you _doing_ to Castiel? You’re ruining him!”

“Do not take our Father’s name in vain!” Naomi scolded.

 _He doesn’t care,_ Cariel thought, but he bit back the traitorous words before they could escape. “Castiel, Naomi. What have you done to Castiel?”

“My. Duties.” Naomi shook her head sadly. “Honestly, Cariel, if you are having difficulty comprehending words, maybe you are the one who needs to be examined.”

“Castiel isn’t being brought to you for any deficiencies! You are summoning him solely to play with his mind!”

“So?” Cariel’s grace ran cold at Naomi’s unashamed acceptance of his accusation. “He’s _Castiel_ , Cariel. He’s always been broken, from the very first day he Awakened. What does it matter if he sustains more damage?”

“He is our _brother_.”

“Wake up, Cariel,” Naomi snapped. “Look around you. We are an army. We are the Host. And we are only as strong as our weakest link.”

“Which you are weakening even further!”

“How better to discover how to repair faults?” Naomi shook her head slowly, something close to pity shifting into her grace and her gaze. “Cariel, no angel is perfect. Many of us have damage that not even Raphael can heal. It is my theory that this damage ultimately begins with faulty programming in the very core of our beings. If I wish to be able to help the Host as a whole, I need to understand how we work. Castiel… no one would miss Castiel if I were to make an error in this exploration of our functionality.”

“Balthazar would miss him,” Cariel countered. “Anael would. _I_ would.”

“Oh please,” Naomi shot back. “You barely remembered he existed until just today. No one _important_ would miss him.”

“Naomi…” Cariel could read between the lines. He knew what Naomi was really saying. _Castiel’s already screwed up. No one would notice if I made things worse._

“It was good to see you, Cariel, but I have real work to do now.” Naomi smiled tightly at Cariel, her eyes flashing dangerously. Cariel knew when he was being dismissed, just as he used to dismiss Naomi when he was the one in power. “Good-day, brother.”


	4. The Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joshua is not the most comforting angel to have a chat with.

### The Lies

To the south, the icy tower of Sammael, Archangel of Water, cracked and groaned, shedding chunks over the centuries of disuse and abandon. Cariel had often glanced its way as he flew through Heaven, wondering how it must feel to Sammael’s dispersed choir as they watched their home crumble into ruin.

He didn’t have to wonder anymore. Gabriel’s tower still stood to the west, but the red glass was entirely spiderwebbed with cracks now, and a breeze could cause it to flake, glittering shards falling to the ground of Heaven. When the light caught all of the new facets, the tower gleamed brilliantly, blazing as if it were being consumed in flames.

The tower was still stable enough to enter, according to a few of the lower—no, _higher_ now, higher orders of Seraphim who had once served Gabriel. Cariel took their word for it. He couldn’t bring himself to set foot inside the empty tower. There were too many memories dying in those rooms.

Cariel’s new office was in the belly of Michael’s tower. He was grateful for the consideration—better this tiny corner of Michael’s tower than an expansive office in Raphael’s—but the wood and stone of the Archangel of the Earth’s workspace held none of the familiar warmth of Gabriel’s fire. Cariel couldn’t relax in his broom cupboard of a workspace even with the door shut.

Barachiel’s office wasn’t any more comforting. Raphael had claimed the cheerful Seraph for his own tower, and Barachiel was ensconced high in the whirlwind Raphael called home. Unlike Cariel, Barachiel had his very own window in his office—he had only been demoted to third-class in the transition—but his room was every bit as white and sterile as the rest of Raphael’s tower. Cariel had dropped by for a visit once, but he had been unable to get the edge out of his wings. His feathers crawled just from the atmosphere of the tower, and he had quickly found an excuse to leave. How Barachiel could stand working there was beyond him. He had asked his brother once, but Barachiel had simply given a little shrug. _You get used to it,_ he had said.

Cariel didn’t care that his desk was polished smoother than the walls of Gabriel’s tower had been, or that the ornate carvings decorating the ceiling of his office had been shaped by talented Cherubim. He just wanted a place where he felt at home again.

With that desire in mind, Cariel flew south, toward the center of Heaven. The song of the Axis Mundi called to his wings, and before he realized it, he was landing outside the gates to the Garden. The Seraph paused just outside, one hand touching the iron bars, feeling for God, but His presence was absent. Feeling guilty for feeling relieved, Cariel pushed the gate open and stepped inside.

The wind that rustled through the trees here was not created by Raphael. The grass that brushed against Cariel’s feet did not spring from Michael’s bounty. This Garden was created by God, and it lacked the hostility and despair that had slowly been filling Heaven. Cariel himself hadn’t realized how suffocating the rest of Heaven had been until he felt the weight lift from his wings in here.

“This is an uncommon visit.” Not too far away, the Cherub Joshua was leaning against a hoe. Gabriel had always spoken fondly of Joshua. He had approved of the industrious Cherub who had always tended God’s Garden faithfully. “What brings you here, Seraph Cariel?”

“Just Cariel is fine. We are all meant to be equals in the Garden.” Cariel trailed his fingers over the trunk of a tree and smiled as a little red glass bench wove itself up beside a path in front of him. Joshua winked and gestured for him to take a seat.

“I think I know why you’re here.” Joshua sat beside Cariel on the little bench, curling one of his wings around the older angel. For all of Joshua’s relative youth, the Cherub was deeply calming. Cariel was starting to understand why Gabriel frequently sought him out when feeling his most stressed. “You miss Gabriel. We all do.”

“Speak for yourself,” Cariel warned gently. “Raphael won’t care to be grouped in with those of us who mourn for our wayward Archangel.”

Joshua just smiled and shook his head. “And he’d do what? Smite me? I am but a humble gardener, no threat at all to such a mighty angel. Raphael would sooner pretend he didn’t hear. Even so, I think you’ll find that isn’t true. Surely you must have realized by now that there is more to Raphael than he likes to let on. For all that he might bluster and blow, Raphael does miss Gabriel. He did love him, in his own way.”

“They were at each other’s throats, at the end,” Cariel reminded Joshua. “Raphael tried to kill him. He’s _still_ trying to kill him.”

“But he isn’t enjoying it,” Joshua pointed out. “There is no thrill of the hunt in him. He pursues Gabriel because he feels it is the merciful thing to do, not out of any sense of hatred or revenge.”

“How is hunting Gabriel merciful?” Cariel demanded.

“It keeps him from falling like Lucifer did.” Joshua sighed. “Wherever Gabriel is, he must hide from Raphael. He must limit himself and his actions. He cannot take over humanity while avoiding the gaze of the angels.”

“Gabriel doesn’t want to take over humanity,” Cariel argued.

“Perhaps not now,” Joshua agreed. “But neither did Lucifer, at first.”

“Gabriel is not like Lucifer.” Cariel’s wings stirred agitatedly behind him. He wished he could fly to his choirmaster—his ex-choirmaster—and tell him what others were saying about him. “He is _nothing_ like Lucifer!”

“Your faith in him is admirable, Cariel. Hold on to it. You’ll need it.” 

“My faith in Gabriel is hardly an asset these days,” Cariel pointed out. “It’s seen as more of a flaw in my programming, to be so loyal to one considered a traitor.”

“None would condemn you for it,” Joshua assured Cariel, though he smiled at Cariel’s doubtful look and amended his reassurance. “No one in any position to do you harm would condemn you for it. The relationship between an Archangel and his lieutenant has always been a sacred one. Raphael knows that he cannot remove your affection for Gabriel, and yes, even Michael is aware of it. So long as you do not jeopardize the safety of Heaven, they won’t lift a hand against you for still thinking of him.”

“Raphael’s already threatened to kill me,” Cariel groused. “Several times. A week. He needs new material.”

Joshua chuckled into the curve of a wing. “Raphael has a nasty bark, but he very rarely gets provoked into actually biting. The day the Host figures this out will be a sorry day for him indeed. Marmoniel may actually dare to hug him!”

Cariel had to admit, the thought of the prickliest Archangel getting a hug from his much softer lieutenant was enough to bring a smile to his face and lighten his grace. He wished Gabriel was around to share the image with. Gabriel would probably laugh out loud and then start plotting a way to make it happen.

As Cariel’s grace dropped in mood, Joshua leaned closer to bump their shoulders together. “It could be worse,” he pointed out.

“I know. I could _actually_ be dead. Or Gabriel could be.”

“No.” Joshua shook his head. “Being dead ends your life. It does not prolong it in suffering.”

“It is already prolonged in suffering.”

Joshua was shaking his head in protest. “You could be alone, Cariel, locked away and forgotten in the darkest reaches of Heaven, where even the Archangels dare not tread.”

“There is no such place.” Cariel eyed Joshua warily. “There are no dark corners in Heaven.”

“You know this as a fact?” Joshua asked, with innocence in his eyes and his grace.

Too much innocence. Gabriel used to do that, when he was obviously lying. Cariel narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I have never heard of such a place.”

For some reason, Joshua’s smile and nod of approval meant as much to Cariel as equal approval from Gabriel would have. “There is more to Heaven than God ever shared with the Host. Secrets kept even from the Archangels themselves. Already, there are powerful Angels capable of disturbing your very own memories, and Dominions and Seraphim who can do so much more. What limits would our Father have when it comes to what we know?”

Cariel glanced around the Garden, feeling a lot less secure here now than he had a few minutes ago. A gentle wind blew through the trees, but no one seemed to be overhearing them. “Be careful what you say, Joshua,” Cariel warned anyway. “Even your trees may have ears.”

Joshua smiled sadly and pushed himself to his feet. “Be careful yourself, Cariel. Heaven is a pretty place, full of pretty lies.”


	5. The Lieutenants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been centuries since Marmoniel and Cariel really had a talk, but when Joan of Arc needs some visions, Marmoniel’s the one bringing the assignment.

### The Lieutenants

Marmoniel didn’t even bother with a greeting before dropping a folder on Cariel’s desk. He frowned, glancing up at her as he picked up the folder and opened it. “Hello to you too.”

“This isn’t a social call.”

Marmoniel had never been the type of angel to exude warmth, but she had always radiated a comforting security in everything she did. She made an excellent healer, inspiring confidence in her patients. Her interactions with Cariel, though, had become sterile and clinical over the centuries. Cariel understood—he was practically Fallen, a Seraph who dropped from the right hand of an Archangel to the very lowest of their caste—but that didn’t mean he liked it. Marmoniel was still his clutchmate, one of his oldest friends, though admittedly never his closest.

The file Marmoniel had given Cariel wasn’t any warmer. It was about a girl, a prophet named Jehanne. She was a young French peasant, and she was destined to receive visions of saints and angels. Cariel frowned as he skimmed the orders. “I can’t do this.”

“Dream-walking. Visions. That’s all your field.” Marmoniel canted her head to the side, studying Cariel. “This is nothing you haven’t done before.”

“Do you have any idea what life is like for this girl?” Cariel drew his arm across his desk, summoning up a virtual model of the Earth. He gave it a flick with his fingers, spinning it until France pointed up, then tapped it to zoom in. He found Jehanne in a barn, patting a cow’s side, and he froze the view, banishing the cow with a flick of his fingers and lifting Jehanne up to show Marmoniel. “Look at her. She’s a child. Born in poverty, uneducated, _female_ … these visions will not raise her up as a prophet. They will damn her as insane and cause her death. She’s an innocent. No.” He closed the folder and set it aside.

Marmoniel pushed the folder back toward Cariel. “You have your orders, Cariel.”

“And who gave those orders? Was it Raphael? I bet it was. At _best_ , this will spark a war. That’s right up his alley.”

“I don’t question my Archangel,” Marmoniel countered, folding her arms.

“Maybe you should.” Cariel tucked the image of Jehanne back alongside her cow and gave the world a spin, watching humanity flash past before him. “I questioned Gabriel all the time, and his decisions were stronger for it.”

“Like his decision to leave?” Marmoniel shook her head. “I still have an Archangel to serve. I won’t risk upsetting him. I am the last of the lieutenants, and I intend to keep my position.”

Cariel slouched back in his chair, folding his arms and staring defiantly up at Marmoniel. The other Seraph sighed, waving a chair over and sitting across from Cariel. “You aren’t happy.”

“What gave it away?”

Marmoniel bit her lip and glanced away before sneaking a furtive look back at Cariel. “ _Most_ of us aren’t happy,” she confessed under her breath.

This was something new. Cariel sat up and leaned forward across his desk, the virtual world still in between himself and his sister. “Why Marmoniel, are you admitting to a fault in Raphael’s command?”

“It’s not Raphael’s command that’s wrong,” Marmoniel snapped back, her feathers bristling as she was quick to defend her Archangel. “It’s just…” She shook her head, her grace frustrated as words didn’t come.

“I know,” Cariel said, relenting. “I feel it too.”

“It’s like… like it’s the end. The universe is spinning out of control and everything will come crashing down. Raphael is…” 

“Raphael is what?”

But Marmoniel clamped her mouth shut and stared resolutely at the edge of Cariel’s desk. Cariel sighed to himself. The lieutenants were renowned for their absolute loyalty to their Archangel. Marmoniel wouldn’t say a word against Raphael in front of Cariel, who was still, as Gabriel’s second, The Enemy. Pushing Marmoniel would just make her clam up further and leave, so Cariel changed the topic instead. “It can’t be the end of the universe,” he said, giving his world a spin again. “God Himself said that the end days would come when Lucifer escaped from his cage, and _that_ would only happen when both Michael and Lucifer’s lines spawn true vessels in the same time, in the same family, as brothers.”

“How close are we to that happening?” Marmoniel asked.

“Not close at all. See here?” Cariel waved his hand across the western side of Europe, and a handful of little blue dots all appeared. “Those are Lucifer’s vessels. None of them are particularly bright. And here,” he waved over the southwest part of Asia, illuminating a handful of green dots, one of which shone brighter than the others, “these are Michael’s vessels. He just had a true vessel born last year, so he won’t get another one for probably another hundred, two hundred years.” Cariel tapped the bright dot that indicated the true vessel. “There are thousands of miles between the two families, and the Cherubim are keeping them apart. The end days won’t come any time soon.”

“This is pretty incredible,” Marmoniel said, reaching out to give the virtual world an experimental spin herself. “Did you make it?”

“No,” Cariel admitted. “Several of my Dominions gifted me with it. They haven’t had as much to do ever since Earth was closed to us, so in their spare time, they crafted this. They made one for Barachiel too.” Barachiel had practically turned green with envy when he saw Cariel’s new toy when he first received it, and he had begged to be allowed one as well. Cariel’s Dominions had been pleased to have their work acknowledged, so they had made Barachiel one better suited for monitoring the weather and geology of the planet instead of the people, like Cariel’s did.

“It is ingenious.” Marmoniel pressed two fingers against the world to stop the spin and looked over at Cariel. “Can you show me Gabriel’s vessels?”

Cariel held Marmoniel’s gaze for a moment before brushing his hand over the northern part of Scotland. A cluster of five little red dots appeared, each one weak and flickering.

“Only five?” Marmoniel frowned, prodding one of the dots. “What’s wrong with them?”

“The bloodline is corrupted,” Cariel admitted. “Demons have settled around the family and pull them into Hell before their time. We haven’t welcomed one of Gabriel’s potential vessels into Heaven in over a century.”

“Demons?” Marmoniel looked up sharply at Cariel, but the other Seraph simply shrugged, his attention on the dots.

“Gabriel’s bloodline is also Lilith’s bloodline. The queen of Hell has been more influential on Earth these days than we have, and I suspect Raphael has been ordering the Cherubim to fold Gabriel’s bloodline back in on itself more frequently than is really healthy.”

“Which one is Gabriel in?”

Cariel laughed harshly, shaking his head. “You think I’d tell you if I knew? But the honest answer, Marmoniel, is none of them. Not one of them have been touched by an angel in any way, aside from cupid arrows. Gabriel hasn’t contacted any of them, much less possessed them.”

“But he _is_ still on Earth?”

Cariel slumped back in his chair, staring dully at the red dots. “I don’t know where he is,” he admitted. “I can’t even answer _that_ honestly. He hasn’t taken any of his bloodline vessels, and I don’t _think_ he can take anyone else’s vessel for very long. I can’t feel his power anywhere, and I can’t see it on this rendering. For all I know, he could have died.”

“You would think the death of an Archangel would make a noticeable scene,” Marmoniel offered.

Cariel shrugged. “You’d think so, but maybe not. Maybe the Archangels are designed to die with a whisper. We’ve never seen one die before.”

Marmoniel sat quietly across from Cariel for a minute before giving a little sigh, closing her eyes and dipping her head. “I wish I could heal your heart, Cariel. I know many don’t see the good in Raphael, but I love him dearly. I have tried to imagine what it would be like had I been the one to lose my Archangel, and I just… I can’t even find it in myself to blame Azazel for what he did. The desperation you must feel…”

“I deal with it.” Cariel was grateful that Marmoniel at least tried to understand. “It helps, I think, that the last thing Gabriel asked of me was to not follow him. By staying here, by coping…”

“You are still obeying your choirmaster.”

“Exactly.”

Marmoniel smiled gently at Cariel before getting to her feet. “Please see that Jehanne gets her visions. I agree, it might not be the most prudent action for her circumstances, but we must trust in the ineffability of God’s plan.”

Cariel sighed and reached for the file to study it again. Marmoniel headed toward the door, but Cariel called her name just before she opened it. “Wait, wait, there is one thing… could you do _me_ a favor?”

Marmoniel turned back to Cariel, her grace quizzical. “That would depend on the favor, I’m afraid.”

“There’s an Angel named Castiel. He’s in Anael’s garrison, serving under Zachariah.” Marmoniel outranked every remaining angel except Raphael and Michael. If anyone could save Castiel, it would be her. “Naomi… questions him frequently. Can you put a stop to that?”

“It is not my place to interfere in the duties of another,” Marmoniel began. “If Naomi has her reasons for questioning Castiel-”

“It’s not questioning!” Cariel slapped the file back down on his desk, shoving his chair back and jumping to his feet. “Marmoniel, she is constantly re-educating him. She calls it looking for solutions to heal the Host, but it isn’t. It’s torture.”

“Cariel…”

“You are a healer!” Cariel snapped. “Rit Zien. Hands of Mercy. _Mercy_ , Marmoniel!” Marmoniel looked away from Cariel again, but Cariel knew that was a sign that she was actually hearing him. He softened his voice and his grace, trying to draw her into understanding. “Castiel is an Angel, Marmoniel, one of our youngest brothers. It should be our duty to protect him, as much as we can. There is no need for Naomi to torture him so. Please, just… this is going too far.”

“If Naomi is acting on orders from an Archangel,” Marmoniel said, turning back to Cariel, “then there is nothing I can do.”

“I understand,” Cariel agreed quickly. “But if she’s _not_?”

“Then I will speak with her. But I make no promises.”

“No. I understand,” Cariel repeated. “Thank you, Marmoniel.”

Marmoniel nodded toward the file on Cariel’s desk. “Attend to your own duties now, Cariel. We all must do our part.”


	6. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year is 1656, and Barachiel has come by for a visit with his big brother.

### The Fall

“Knock knock!” Barachiel peered around the door of Cariel’s office, tapping lightly on the frame. “Are you busy?”

Cariel looked up from his model of the world, hastily trying to smooth out the crackling anger in his grace when he recognized his brother. “No, not really. Hello, Barachiel. What brings you here today?”

“I wasn’t busy either.” Barachiel carefully shut the door behind him as he stepped into Cariel’s office, a little frown forming as his eyes scanned over Cariel’s grace. “You’re looking stressed.” Cariel returned the comment with a flat look, and Barachiel dipped his head in assent. “As always,” he amended. “Cariel, when was the last time you left Heaven?”

“We’re not allowed to leave,” Cariel reminded his brother, pressing his hand over the virtual Earth to dismiss it.

“Not go to Earth,” Barachiel shook his head. “Just out to the Borderlands. We’re allowed there.”

“But why would I bother?” Cariel asked. “There’s nothing there.”

“Precisely.” Barachiel linked his hands together behind his back and smiled sweetly at Cariel. “No Archangels.”

Cariel held Barachiel’s gaze for a moment before he was shoving his chair back, unable to get to his feet fast enough. Barachiel laughed and held out his hand for Cariel, and the two leapt off toward the gates of Heaven together.

Once the two Seraphim had passed through the western gate, the oppressive weight of Heaven fell away from their wings. Cariel surged forward, flying as hard and fast as he could just _because_ he could. Barachiel kept pace shortly behind him, his wings fully healed now, as rich and full as they had been before the Nephilim had cut them from his back.

Far from Heaven, Cariel finally stopped flying, spreading his wings and letting himself drift in the grey blankness of the Borderlands. He could feel some of his brothers out even further away, Raphael’s warriors patrolling, and knew they were safe here. There were monsters that lived in this empty space, but Raphael was good about beating them back to the very edges of the universe.

Barachiel curved in beside Cariel and threaded his wings through his brother’s to keep them together as they floated in the empty space. He stroked his grace against Cariel’s, and Cariel smiled for the first time in years. “Thank you, Barachiel,” he murmured. “I needed this.”

“I figured as much.” Barachiel dipped his hand into his grace, rummaging around until he pulled out a little package. “I actually brought something for you.” He offered it to Cariel.

Cariel accepted the package curiously, pulling open the wrapping to reveal… “Manna! I didn’t think,” he trailed off, narrowing his eyes at Barachiel. “This is stolen.” The Archangels used to offer manna at their weekly meetings with the Seraphim, or as gifts and blessings to injured angels or angels who had performed their duties well, but they had stopped that long ago, around the time Gabriel had left. What used to be a common reassurance of hope and the love of God had all but vanished overnight, doled out very sparingly only to the most injured angels. There was no way the uninjured Barachiel could have legally gotten his hands on any.

“Of course it is,” Barachiel answered with a cheeky smile. “Raphael certainly hasn’t been spreading it around.”

“You stole manna from Raphael!?”

“ _I_ stole nothing!” Barachiel pressed his hand against his chest in mock offense. “I really didn’t. It’s actually from Balthazar. He asked me to give it to you.”

“Balthazar?” Cariel frowned, unable to resist the temptation of the manna any longer and taking a piece for himself. The flavor of the bread burst across his tongue, a rush of warmth and security washing through his grace. He felt wrapped in Gabriel’s wings again, the furnace of his Archangel’s ever-burning core pressed tight against his own. He felt safe and cherished and valued, and he felt _good_ again.

When he opened his eyes (and when had he closed them?), he found Barachiel smiling knowingly at him. Manna had never been so strong before… but then again, Heaven had never been so desolate before. Cariel held out the package, offering the bread to Barachiel so his brother could take a piece for himself.

Barachiel barely hesitated at all before accepting the gift. Their craving for the feelings invoked by the manna far outweighed the politeness of taking some of a brother’s present. Cariel watched Barachiel taste the rare bread, his wings giving a little shiver of joy as he savored the treat. “Good?”

“I’d forgotten…” Barachiel sighed, leaning over to rest his head against Cariel’s shoulder. “Balthazar must have genuinely been grateful to give this up. He’s not exactly the most selfless of angels.”

“Did he say why?” Cariel asked, pinching another piece of the manna, holding in his mouth as long as he could.

“He said it’s been two hundred years since Castiel was taken, and he thinks it’s over?” Barachiel shrugged. “He said he thought you’d understand.”

“Ah…” Marmoniel had been successful, then. Cariel had wondered, but he hadn’t been able to manufacture an excuse to find any of Anael’s angels to ask them how Castiel was. “Naomi had been torturing Castiel. I asked Marmoniel to stop her. I didn’t think she actually had.”

“The saddest part of that,” Barachiel murmured, “is that I’m not at all surprised to hear an angel’s been tortured by another. That’s practically _normal_ now.”

Cariel looped his arm around Barachiel’s back, hating that his brother was right.

Barachiel sighed. “From what I’ve heard, Balthazar really _is_ grateful. Aside from… well, _this_ ,” the Seraph gestured at the manna, “he hasn’t really acted up in well over a century. Zachariah thinks it’s Castiel’s good influence. Zachariah thinks _Castiel_ is a good influence!”

“Are we sure Balthazar’s not the one being re-educated now?” Cariel asked, only half-jokingly. “How have you heard all of this, anyway?”

“I know you don’t like Zachariah, but he is still my partner,” Barachiel pointed out. “And we’re still on good terms. Besides, he likes to brag, and I tend to let him. He’s actually taking credit for Balthazar’s behavior himself, by saying that he had ensured Castiel had received extra lessons in… oh. Leadership training. That was probably code for ‘I’m having Naomi re-educate him.’” Barachiel’s wings drooped. “Drat. I was trying to pay attention to whenever he was being too harsh, but that slipped right past me.”

Cariel snorted and shook his head. “He probably genuinely considered Naomi’s work as a good thing. This _is_ Zachariah we’re talking about. That imbecile is a horrible kiss-arse. All he does these days is suck up to the Archangels. It’s not like Michael cares, anyway! It’s all Raphael, and he’s an absolute-”

As Cariel ranted, Barachiel stretched out his grace, spreading it in a bubble around them to cocoon them in safety. Cariel’s words couldn’t be overheard through the barrier of Barachiel’s grace.

“-moron when it really comes down to it! I don’t think he really knows the first thing about running Heaven, and for someone who’s forbidden us all from penetrating the veil, he’s far too focused on Earth to do a good job up here anyway. I suspect he’s deliberately weakening Gabriel’s bloodline. They’re down to just two potential vessels, did you know that? Just two, a brother and sister, and they are _both_ corrupted by demons. I don’t think the brother can even hold Gabriel’s grace without dying, and the sister is barely any better. They’re _witches_ , Barachiel. If Gabriel’s forced out of hiding and into one of them, he’s going to be absolutely screwed!”

Barachiel was watching Cariel solemnly. When Cariel finally took a breath, Barachiel fluttered his wings lightly. “Cariel? Please don’t take this the wrong way—I love you dearly, you know that—but why are you still here?”

“Pardon?”

“Here,” Barachiel repeated. “In Heaven. Why haven’t you left to find Gabriel?”

“The choir—what’s left of it—needs me,” Cariel said, the same response he gave himself whenever he wanted to leave.

But Barachiel was shaking his head even before Cariel had finished, his eyes sad. “They come to _me_ ,” he pointed out. “You’re the lowest of the Seraphim. You _can’t_ help them. Raphael made sure of that. I managed to get myself promoted to second-class, and I know he’s actually considering to raise me back to first. Gabriel’s angels come to me when they need help.”

Cariel looked away from Barachiel. He had already known that and had actually encouraged it himself—Barachiel was re-earning trust from the Archangels, and as a second-class Seraph was actually capable of getting things done. He even had a fraction of immunity as Zachariah’s partner, as he was one of the few angels Zachariah actually seemed to like and didn’t try to sabotage simply to show off. No angel had approached Cariel for help in centuries. Even Balthazar and Castiel hadn’t come to Cariel. He had found them in need.

“What’s really keeping you here?” Barachiel asked quietly. “Why haven’t you followed Gabriel?”

“He told me not to,” Cariel whispered back. “His last order to me was to stay. He…” _He touched my spirit, for the first time in centuries, and he asked me a favor, he gave me an order. I couldn’t… it was the last thing he ever said to me. The very last…_

“You stayed for a thousand years.” Barachiel brushed his wings over Cariel’s back. “You endured Raphael and Zachariah and Naomi for a thousand years without him.”

“I have never disobeyed him. Not once.”

“I think he’d understand,” Barachiel pointed out. “He loved you too, Cariel. You were always his favorite. I think if he’d let any angel find him on Earth, it would be you.”

“Assuming he’s even still on Earth,” Cariel grumbled.

“Of course he’s still on Earth,” Barachiel answered. “We would have felt his grace—or anyone’s grace—escape. And he’s not _dead_. I can still feel him in my head.” He touched his fingers to his temple. “He’s blocked himself off from all of us, but he’s still there, still alive. We’d feel it if he were gone. He’s on Earth. He’s been _alone_ on Earth, Cariel. I bet he’s seriously regretting making you promise to stay away. I bet he’s genuinely wishing you’d come back. An angel isn’t meant to be alone. If you were with him, neither of you would be alone. It would all work out.”

“Except for the bit where Raphael would drag me back to Heaven for an execution.” Cariel closed his eyes and ducked his head. “If an angel goes to Earth without the express permission of an Archangel, they are considered the enemy and killed.”

 _Who says you have to be an angel?_ Even shrouded in his grace, keeping their conversation private, Barachiel didn’t dare voice the treasonous thought aloud. Instead, he whispered it through their graces, slotting the words into Cariel’s mind.

Cariel turned his head to meet Barachiel’s gaze fully. The younger angel was nervous but firm in his conviction that this was the wisest avenue. _Are you seriously suggesting that I fall?_

 _You wouldn’t be the first since Earth was locked to us,_ Barachiel explained. _We know what Raphael does to the angels who choose to fall._

 _He ignores them…_ The reasoning behind Barachiel’s suggestion was slowly growing clearer.

_Because to fall is believed punishment enough. To lose your grace, your wings, your **angelicness**?_

_He would let me fall._

_I think he’d even understand._ Barachiel gave a little laugh. _He may even wonder, as I do now, what took you so long!_

“If he’s been trying to drive me out of Heaven,” Cariel muttered, “it has been working…” Over the past centuries, life in Heaven had grown worse for all angels, but it was practically unbearable for Cariel. Even Barachiel wasn’t suffering as much as Cariel. He had always assumed the feelings of persecution were simple paranoia, but now he was rethinking everything. _But then I’d only have a human lifetime before I die._

 _So make sure you find Gabriel before then,_ Barachiel advised. _He can make you immortal. Any Cherub can grant immortality. I’m sure Gabriel could do so without being caught._

 _I wouldn’t remember. How can I look for Gabriel if I don’t even remember him?_ Angels lost their memories when they tore out their grace and fell. Cariel knew this to be true. They only regained them after they died again, whether they returned to Heaven as human souls or fell again to Hell and became demons. At least, some double-fallen angels regained their memories. Cariel vaguely remembered the Knights of Hell seeming unaware of their angelic history, but Azazel certainly remembered who he had been, and rumor had it that Alastair also knew (but Alastair hadn’t stepped out of Hell since his second fall). If Cariel fell, and then fell again, as a demon he would both be immortal and have his memories of Gabriel. So long as he figured out how to keep them, at least. If that worked, he could then search for Gabriel without a time constraint, and Gabriel wouldn’t have any reason to hide from demons. He had even told Gabriel once, when they were talking about Azazel, that he would take the double-fall himself. _Better to be a demon but at your side than an angel and forever separated._

Better to be a demon. If any angel realized these thoughts were in his mind, he might be executed on the spot for treason even without acting on them.

 _Try to direct your fall,_ Barachiel suggested. _Point yourself at Gabriel’s female vessel, so you’re born into her family. Maybe he’ll be curious as to why an angel fell into his bloodline and come to investigate. I’m sure if he saw you, he’d help you remember. He wouldn’t leave you alone._

 _That’s a good idea._ Cariel wasn’t about to tell even Barachiel about his own thoughts. Barachiel needed to stay innocent and trusted. He could say that he knew Cariel had planned to fall as a human, but at least this way, he wouldn’t be able to say anything about the second fall. _He’d have to notice, right?_

_He’ll find you for sure._

Cariel took a deep breath, closing his hands into fists. “There’s still so much broken in Heaven…” He would need to repeat his plan over and over to himself, an unending mantra, for _years_ in order to embed the necessary drives in him for when he was human. _Become a demon. Find Gabriel._ It would take time… but what was several years after a thousand apart? “I want to make it all right again.”

“You can’t,” Barachiel said. “Neither of us can. Change would have to come from the Archangels or from the entire Host. It won’t. All you can do, Cariel, is get out with your sanity.”

“What about you?” Cariel asked, looking to Barachiel.

Barachiel shrugged. “Someone needs to look after what’s left of the choir. And while I love Gabriel dearly and miss him every day, I was never _in_ love with him. You go without me. I’ll be fine up here.”

“Barachiel…”

“ _Go_ ,” Barachiel stressed. “When you find Gabriel, give him all of our love. But you need to go, Cariel.”

Cariel offered Barachiel the rest of the manna, smiling again at his little brother. “You take this, then. Give it to anyone you think needs it most.”

“I think _you_ need it!” Barachiel protested, trying to push it back.

Cariel shook his head, still smiling. “I’m going to be with Gabriel again. I have everything I need.”


End file.
